


Along The Docks

by stickytablet137



Category: Book of Life (2014)
Genre: F/F, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-22
Updated: 2015-03-22
Packaged: 2018-03-19 02:43:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3593364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stickytablet137/pseuds/stickytablet137
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Oh, you have to sing it for me!" you insisted. "I don't get enough chances to hear your voice."<br/>"You hear me sing every day," he chuckled.<br/>"It's still not enough. Please? For me?" you pleaded.</p>
<p> Jorge Sanchez x Reader</p>
            </blockquote>





	Along The Docks

**Along The Docks**

 

The moon’s strong hold on the sky began to slip in the early hours of morning within the town of San Angel. A lone figure wandered the dark streets, heading towards one home in particular. It was a home no different than the others that littered the town, but it was who lived inside that mattered to him.

Reaching the entrance to the abode, Jorge Sanchez pulled a sheet of paper from out of his vest pocket. He thumbed over the words before sliding it under the crack that separated the ground from the door. He knocked on the door, loud and quick, only stopping when he saw that a lantern had been lit from your bedroom window. After seeing the light, he made a swift exit from the home and later the street.

Waking from your peaceful slumber to the loud rapping downstairs put you in something of a sour mood. You tore through the door, ready to slap whoever had woken you up this early in the morning. But upon finding no one on your doorstep, not even along the street, you slunk back inside silently fuming. That is, until you heard a distinct “crunch” from underfoot.

Looking down, you found your heel placed on top of a letter. As you picked it up, your anger faded and you began to read.

 

_Mi Corazon,_

 

_I apologize for waking you in the dead of night but I need to know that you received this message._

_At midday, meet me along the docks near the Baez’s bakery and I assure you, you will not be disappointed._

 

_Con todo mi amour,_

_Jorge S._

 

You were a little less than amused. However, you decided to let your lover apologize through whatever it was that he had in mind.

Returning to your bed for a few more hours of sleep, you folded the letter and placed it on your nightstand. Whatever he had planned better be good.

 

* * *

 

After getting more sleep, your frustration with Jorge dissipated into nothing. However, your anticipation took its place. You knew that whatever he had planned would be something affectionate, he was too much of a romantic to let an opportunity go to waste.

Soon enough it was midday and you began your trek to the docks. The Baez’s bakery was not too far from where you lived and in no time you where waving a good morning to Marcello Baez. Walking past the bakery and towards the docks that lay behind it, you could see why your lover told you that you wouldn’t be disappointed.

Laid along the docks was an exquisitely designed cotton blanket, patterns twisting in gold and red. Sitting atop the cloth was a bountiful display of food and wine, silver plates and glasses shimmering against the sunlight. You were so captivated by the sight that you almost didn’t hear the approaching man behind you.

“Do you like it?” Jorge asked, placing his hands on your shoulders.

“It’s beautiful,” you answered, turning around to meet his eyes. They were the prettiest eyes you thought you’d ever see, full of nothing but care and love.

Taking your hand in his gentle grip, the bullfighter led you to the feast he had prepared. The cloth’s centerpiece was the cut breast of what had once been a rather large chicken and a loaf of fresh bread. Grapes, bananas, and apples littered the space around the bird, leaving room for two silver plates and glasses. Sitting down, you plucked a grape from its vine and set it in your mouth. Its sweet taste washed over your tongue as your lover took his seat beside you.

“You’re too sweet,” you said as he poured two glasses of expensive looking wine.

“There’s no such thing as ‘too sweet’ when I’m with you,” his voice dripped from his lips like honey while he handed you the cool metal goblet.

You set the drink on the ground before grabbing a fork and Jorge’s plate. Taking a piece of the precut chicken and putting in onto his plate, you tried to strike up a conversation.

“So should I be lead to believe that you were able to make all this by yourself?”

“The day I’m able to cook a decent meal is the day Anita learns how to sing _Granada_ ,” he laughed. “No, I bought it. Marcello was able to throw in the loaf and blanket for free,” he added as you set down his plate. “He either really enjoyed my last fight or he’s secretly a romantic.”

You chuckled at the thought. “Wouldn’t that be a sight? Marcello, the man who acts and looks like a jaguar, trying to seduce someone under the moonlight.” You took a chunk of bread from the loaf before washing it down with a sip of wine.

Your lover seemed to agree with you as he practically snorted out his drink. Getting ahold of himself, he responded, “It would be quite the sight. But be careful with your volume,” he looked to the bakery with a look resembling worry. “You never know how much he hears.”

“Oh, you’re worrying over nothing, Jorge!” you playfully nagged, reaching for a piece of chicken.

“I suppose,” he sighed. “So, how has your day been?”

 

* * *

 

The two of you talked for what seemed like hours, enjoying the taste of the food and the sound of each other’s voice. You spoke of your families, love, and the cheap gossip that buzzed around this sleepy town before the conversation turned to music.

“So, how have mi amor’s musical studies been?”

Jorge’s original content appearance erupted into an exuberant joy at the mention of his music. He always lit up when someone let him talk about music, so you would give him every chance to discuss it.

“It’s going very well,” he explained, a smile stretching across his face. “I was able to get ahold of the sheet music to a love song a while ago.”

“Have you gotten a chance to practice it yet?” you asked, sitting up a bit straighter.

“Even better than that,” he responded. “I’m nearly finished memorizing it!”

“Oh, you have to sing it for me!” you insisted. “I don’t get enough chances to hear your voice.”

“You hear me sing every day,” he chuckled.

“It’s still not enough. Please? For me?” you pleaded, contorting your face in a way that would make a beggar proud.

“Fine,” he conceded with a soft smile playing at his lips. “For you.”

Sitting up straight, Jorge cleared his throat before humming the starting note of the song. Soon afterwards, his rich voice sailed through the air.

 

Where do I begin  
To tell the story of how great a love can be  
The sweet love story that is older than the sea  
The simple truth about the love she brings to me  
Where do I start

With her first hello  
She gave new meaning to this empty world of mine  
There'd never be another love, another time  
She came into my life and made the living fine  
She fills my heart

She fills my heart with very special things  
With angels' songs, with wild imaginings  
She fills my soul with so much love  
That anywhere I go I'm never lonely  
With her around, who could be lonely  
I reach for her hand, it's always there

How long does it last  
Can love be measured by the hours in a day  
I have no answers now but this much I can say  
I know I'll need her 'till the stars all burn away

She fills my heart with very special things  
With angels' songs, with wild imaginings  
She fills my soul with so much love  
That anywhere I go I'm never lo—

 

Somewhere in his smooth serenade, Jorge had gotten caught into his song. He stood and began a twirling and twisting dance on top of the then cleared blanket. He belted out the chorus with the loving intensity that only an opera singer may provide. Lost in his passion, he didn’t notice that his twisting dance was leading him to the edge of the stone and into the water that surrounded San Angel.

Splash!

“Jorge!” you cried out, scrambling to the water. He surfaced and took hold of your extended hands. “Are you alright?”

“I’ll be fine,” he assured you. “I’m just wet. Now, can you help me up?”

As you pulled him up onto the cloth covered stone, the sound of someone slamming a door open filled the air. Looking at the source of the cacophony, you found none other than the jaguar-like man that had been the subject of your conversation some time ago. And he looked none too happy standing in the back doorway of the bakery.

“Hey!” Marcello barked, “If you get that blanket wet I will fry you up and serve you with beans!” The snarl that was smeared across his face made his threat seem that much more feasible.

You turned to Jorge, who was now standing on said blanket, sopping wet. He looked at you with the same expression of panic before grabbing your hand and getting the hell out of dodge. About half a block away, you looked back to see the monster of a man cursing up a storm.

“As long as I have the fortune of not being murdered today,” you thought, looking at the fear stricken face of your lover, “Then this will the best day I’ve had in a long time.”

**Author's Note:**

> Oh god please forgive me
> 
> Here's a link to the song "Love Story" as sung by Jorge's voice actor
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bz--bkfnHVM&index=18&list=PLPp4q1W-ddwAbrP5z4RDzuGOuT_n3qXph


End file.
